The Omega Nanny Page 4

  Kieran snorted lightly, and then took a larger swallow.

  It was… surprisingly good. The molasses did really add a deeper note to the concoction, but it was so overpoweringly sweet…

  “Not so much of it,” said Kieran. “And more cinnamon. And… something else. Not nutmeg. Cloves, maybe? If you’re going to make a chocolate gingerbread drink, you might as well go all the way.”

  Cameron nodded, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Agreed,” she said. “Tim hated it.”

  “That just means it’ll be a hit,” said Kieran, and drank some more. It tasted much sweeter than Kieran normally liked his coffee, but it was hot, and the wind was cold. Kieran could live with overly sweet if it meant staying outside and warm at the same time.

  “So,” said Cameron, so casual that Kieran was instantly put on guard, “new job.”

  Kieran swallowed. “Yup.”

  “Babysitting.”

  “Nannying.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  “Implied, yeah.”

  “Hmm.” Cameron tapped her cigarette against the armrest to knock off the ash. “They’re regulars.”

  “Yeah, but I babysat for them before—” Kieran cut himself off. “Anyway. They’re nice enough. The woman’s a beta,” Kieran added. “His sister. I think his mate died when Jessie was born. I’m not sure.”

  “It’s not like they’d tell their life stories to the babysitter,” agreed Cameron. “Wonder why the sister can’t take care of the girl. Isn’t that the whole point to being a beta?”

  “I think she has been. The reason I was hired a year ago was because she was going out on a date. Anyway, I’ll probably find out more on Monday.”

  “Mmm,” said Cameron, and they fell quiet as she kept smoking her cigarette, and Kieran drank the coffee concoction, trying to think of what they’d call it.

  “You sure it’s a good idea?” asked Cameron.

  Kieran gripped the mug a little tighter. He didn’t have to ask Cameron to clarify: a widowed and therefore technically unbonded alpha, hiring an unbonded omega, to hang out in his house with no supervision except for a kid? There were reasons why omegas didn’t typically act as domestic help, and reasons why such stories were popular ‘mega-lit tropes.

  “I’m apparently not his type,” said Kieran.

  “I just want—”

  “I know,” interrupted Kieran. “You’re trying to look out for me. I get it. I’m fine. It’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m going to live in.”

  Cameron threw the cigarette butt at the wall, where it sparked a bit before falling to the gravel. “Back to work.”

  Kieran followed Cameron across the rooftop and down the stairs. He left the mug and plate outside the door to the apartment – they could take it in later. He expected Cameron to say something before they went back into the café – some platitude about trusting his instincts, or not jumping on the opportunity if it felt wrong, or something typical to an alpha wanting to reassure an omega that he’d be fine – but Cameron didn’t say anything.

  The café’s lunch-rush was clearly winding down; only half the tables still had customers, and most of them were either finished with their food or nearly so. There were only a few people in line, and Kieran could see clear across the eating area, which was a nice change of pace from the business of that morning. Cameron went straight back into the bar area, but Kieran, already spying empty tables still laden with plates and napkins and crumbs, grabbed a plastic bin and got to work.

  Trying to clear tables and keep the area neat was much easier with so few customers – Kieran was able to let down his guard a little bit, since it was less likely that anyone would try to cop a feel or say something they thought was witty to him. He moved easily, without really thinking about what he was doing, which made it much easier to think about the Whittakers instead, and review what he remembered about them.

  The dad, Thomas, who was some kind of architect or contractor or something to do with construction. Kieran wasn’t sure of the details, but the man seemed nice enough, if a little annoyed by the entire process of having to hire a nanny for his kid. And his sister, Connie, who had been pleasant and friendly when Kieran had met her the year before. Apart from the initial surprise to learn that Kieran was an omega, she hadn’t seemed to mind his presentation very much.

  Kieran decided that was probably a good thing. He wondered why they were hiring him at all – maybe Connie had found a job or something. Or maybe that date she’d been on had panned out, and she was taking advantage of the new laws to get married.

  Jessie was a spitfire; Kieran had liked her a lot, and was sorry when he wasn’t called back to babysit for them again. The house was pleasant and comfortable and friendly, just the sort of place that Kieran had grown up in, all neat and tidy and organized in a way that made The Coffee Pot and Cameron’s apartment upstairs seem even more chaotic.

  But The Coffee Pot was where Kieran had a place to stay, and he wasn’t going to complain about it.

  He’d already loaded up the bin once and sent it down to the kitchen, and was halfway through filling another when he heard the familiar cough behind him.

  Shit.

  “Hello, Kieran,” said Mark Corvey, and Kieran let out a slow breath. “You’re looking well.”

  But he didn’t stop working, and he didn’t answer. He finished piling up the dishes in the bin, and then pulled the spray bottle from where it hung on his apron and started to clean the tabletop.

  “Agnes placed first in her school in the spelling bee last week.”

  Kieran let out a slow breath, and kept working. Silent, studious Agnes, who never sought the spotlight if she could help it, winning a school-wide spelling bee? Then again, she’d always been smarter than Kieran even on her worst days.

  “And Desmond’s pregnant again. He wanted me to tell you last week, but – well, it’s still early days, and you know he doesn’t handle pregnancy well. I thought it better to wait, but he thought if you knew you might – well, he wanted you to know.”

  It was harder to keep working now – Kieran thought of Desmond, tall and reedy and the way his face had grown pinched and tight with his only other pregnancy, three years before. He’d nearly lost that one, too, just like the others, and for a moment, Kieran wanted to turn around and demand every last detail from Mark.

  Or even beg to go home with him and see for himself.

  “The dog caught a squirrel. I think the squirrel gave him what-for, he’s refused to go outside ever since.”

  Kieran had to choke back the laugh.

  Mark sighed impatiently. “For Chrissake, Kieran, aren’t you even going to say hello to me?”

  Kieran couldn’t put it off any longer; he took a breath – mostly for courage – and balanced the plastic bin on his hip before turning around.

  “Hi, Fa,” he said calmly, looking his father in the eye.

  Mark Corvey, despite being a head taller and quite a bit more muscular than Kieran, was otherwise the spitting image of his son. His hair was thick and brown, if not quite as curled at the ends, and the color had begun to fade at his temples. There were more creases along his eyes and mouth, as if the man spent most of his time laughing or smiling, even though he was not doing anything just then but anxiously scanning Kieran, as if checking for any detail that might have changed since he’d seen him last. He kept his hands in the pockets of his dark brown bomber jacket, though, and made no move to touch Kieran, or even come any closer than the arm’s length between them.

  “Kieran,” said Mark. “Are you—?” Mark cut himself off, took a breath, and tried again. “How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” said Kieran curtly. He shifted the plastic bin. “I just need to take this to the kitchen.”

  Mark nodded almost absently. “You’re staying warm? We found your raincoat in the back of the closet – I can bring it by if you want.”

  “No,” said Kieran, shifting the heavy bin again. “I’m fine.” He paused. “How’s
Mom?”

  “Better. Busy.” Mark paused. “Worried about you.”

  Kieran sighed, and set the bin back down on the table. “She doesn’t need to worry. I’m fine.”

  “How fine can you be?” said Mark, the ire coming to the surface. “You’re living away from home with strangers and working yourself to the bone, trying to pay money you think you owe us—”

  “I do owe you,” insisted Kieran. “You lost ten thousand dollars because I changed my mind.”

  “That doesn’t matter to us.”

  “It matters to me,” said Kieran. “Look, I’m sorry, Fa – I’ve got customers.”

  “Son, you’re taking this too far,” said Mark. “Just… just come home, all right? There’s no reason to put yourself in this sort of situation—”

  “What sort of situation, Fa?” asked Kieran angrily. “Out in public without an alpha to protect me? I don’t need anyone’s protection. And I’m fine right here with Cameron.”

  “Cameron’s not family.”

  “And thank God for that,” snapped Kieran. “Because if she was, she’d probably just turn me straight over to you so you could hand me off to the highest bidder again.”

  Mark sighed and rubbed his face. “Kieran. You know we wouldn’t do that.”

  “Hmph,” snorted Kieran.

  “Vera asked about you.”

  Kieran felt the familiar thump in his chest, a curious blend of hot and cold and excitement that he usually only felt when his estrus was coming on. Except with estrus, the feeling was always followed by a slow, burning desire that built on itself.

  Now all Kieran could feel was the sudden fear of his heart hammering in his chest, the sound of his blood rushing through his ears.

  “Oh,” he said, unable to think of anything else to say.

  “She says she’s still open to working things out between you, Kieran.”

  Kieran laughed hollowly. “Oh. I get it. Not even the highest bidder. Just the bidder who didn’t pan out the first time.”

  “Kieran—”

  Kieran dug into his back pocket and pulled out the envelope. He dropped it on the table and then picked up the bin again. “Here’s this week’s money.”

  “It’s what everyone knows is best, Kieran. She’s a good woman. A good alpha. Bonding to her would be one of the best decisions you could make.”

  Kieran huffed softly as he picked the bin back up. His eyes were already beginning to sting a little bit. “Fa, Vera was never going to bond with me. Or did she have you fooled, too?”

  Kieran kept his back to his father, not wanting him to see the way his eyes were surely red already. He could hear Mark’s deep, distressed sigh.

  “Kieran – just—”

  Kieran braced himself for the rebuke. He could see the envelope out of the corner of his eye, still sitting on the table where he’d dropped it.

  “Be safe.” Mark’s voice no longer had the ire or the anger. Now it was gentle – soft – caring. Exactly the voice Kieran remembered from his childhood, waking in the middle of the night from a nightmare, and being lulled back to sleep.

  Kieran inhaled, long and slow. “Yeah. I will. Thanks, Fa.”

  Kieran didn’t look back until he’d turned the corner and was safely behind the bar – just in time to see Mark wipe his eyes with a handkerchief. Kieran watched as his father carefully folded it and put it back in his pocket before reaching for the envelope of money.

  Kieran wasn’t sure what was worse – hearing that his father didn’t even care about the money – or watching him take it anyway.

  He supposed it didn’t matter, and waited until Mark Corvey had left the coffee shop entirely before going back to work.

  Chapter Three

  Monday morning was much the same as it ever was: Thomas woke, showered, dressed, and had just enough time to kiss the top of Jessie’s head as she ate her breakfast before he had to leave for work himself.

  “Take an apple!” Connie shouted after him, just as she did every morning, but he was already halfway out the door, and it was easy enough to pretend to ignore her, just as he did every morning.

  By the time he reached the office, he was starving, but that was why he kept a box of Pop-Tarts in his desk. He ate the first one in five bites, and had a single bite of the second before he became immersed in paperwork. By the time he remembered its existence, it no longer looked appetizing – not that it ever really had in the first place. Thomas threw the remainder away, and resolved to pick up something on his way to his afternoon inspections. Not for the first time, he wished there were drive-thrus with healthier options than a chicken sandwich, but it would have to do.

  Again.

  The afternoon inspection was about as smooth and simple as he could hope for, and Thomas was walking back into the office by 3pm. For some reason, he couldn’t help but glance at the clock as he walked through the lobby; Jessie would be arriving home shortly, and she’d be met at the bus not only by Connie, but by the new nanny as well.

  Kieran. Whose last name, Thomas realized with a start, he didn’t even know. Connie knew. Connie had to know, she’d been meticulous about every other item the day before, making sure she had all the necessary forms for Kieran to fill out when he arrived, ensuring that the list of emergency numbers was updated and prominently displayed near the phone in the kitchen. She’d even planned to call the school on Monday and include Kieran on the list of approved adults able to fetch Jessie in case of emergency, as well as contact her pediatrician so that he wouldn’t be left out in the waiting room if she was injured while in his care.

  Of course Connie knew Kieran’s last name, Thomas tried to reassure himself.

  It didn’t work.

  “Thomas!” called Nora from her office when he was already three steps beyond the door. She was laughing as she called his name, and he shook his brooding off and went back to see what she was laughing about. “Goodness, Thomas, is your head in the clouds today? You usually don’t take so long to respond to your name.”

  Thomas frowned. “You called it more than once?”

  “Four times,” said Nora, and she stood up from behind her desk. “Oh, dear. Was the building not up to code? Usually Gerard Construction is much more dependable than that.”

  “They’re fine,” Thomas assured her. “Just… it’s the nanny’s first day.”

  “Ah,” said Nora knowingly. “Pre-nanny jitters? I’m sure she’ll be fine; Jessie seems to like everyone. And your sister is an absolute monster, she’ll scare the nanny straight in no time, if need be.”

  “He,” said Thomas absently. “It’s a he.”

  “My mistake. I was just about to have some tea, do you want some?”

  “Coffee,” said Thomas gratefully, and sat down on the couch, leaning back and closing his eyes. The leather was cool and smelled as if Nora had just varnished it, or polished it, or whatever it was one did to keep leather supple and clean, and he breathed in the comforting scent. The sounds of Nora making coffee and tea were soothing and gentle, and Thomas tried not to think about what might be happening at home.

  It wasn’t as if he needed to worry. Nora was right – Jessie did like everyone. She had Felicity’s unwavering faith in the goodness and kindness of people, and Connie had not done anything to dissuade her. It was probably why Connie took such an overbearing view of choosing Jessie’s companions and activities so carefully, all the better to ensure that Jessie never had the opportunity to put her faith into someone who didn’t deserve it in the first place.

  Thomas wasn’t sure that was the best of plans – after all, Jessie would have to learn how the world worked eventually – but in the meantime, watching his daughter make friends so quickly and easily, just as Felicity had done, made him feel better every time, as if Felicity was still with them.

  Jessie would get off the bus, and go home with Connie and Kieran. Kieran would help her with her homework, play with her, and maybe get dinner ready, while Connie watched from afar as she planne
d her marriage.

  And then Thomas would come home.

  It was what happened then that had Thomas wondering. Would Kieran leave? Would he eat dinner with them? Would he stay and clean up? Would he expect Thomas to talk to him, much as Connie had always done, or would he stick to Jessie like glue?

  “I’m not quite sure what to wear,” said Nora, breaking into Thomas’s thoughts as she set the tray of tea and coffee and cookies down on the table.

  “Hmm?” asked Thomas, opening his eyes and sitting up.

  “To the marriage,” explained Nora. She sat beside him and reached for her tea. “Does one dress up for these things? Or is it meant to be more casual?”

  “No idea,” said Thomas. “I think Brent is wearing his uniform.”

  “Of course,” said Nora. “That’s quite appropriate. What is Connie wearing?”

  Thomas frowned. “Clothes?”

  Nora sighed. “You are such an alpha.”

  “Oh, good, you noticed,” said Thomas, and reached for his coffee.

  “It hadn’t slipped my mind,” said Nora, a bit dryly. She held her tea, without drinking it, and Thomas could feel her observing him as he sipped at the coffee, as if she was trying to determine the best way of introducing a new topic. “You seem very worried about the new nanny.”

  Thomas paused. “He’s an omega.”

  “Oh,” said Nora, eyes widening. “I’m surprised the agency would even send an omega as a candidate.”

  “They didn’t. We found him at a coffee shop.”

  Nora was momentarily flummoxed. “All… right?”

  “He worked for the agency as a babysitter, we hired him once through them about a year ago,” Thomas explained. “Apparently he left and started working as a busboy – said it was more consistent work. Jessie remembered him and liked him, and you know Connie.”

  “I do,” said Nora, thoughtfully. “She wouldn’t have hired him if she didn’t believe he was up to the task. Still. I didn’t think omegas could be nannies. What about his estrus?”